Page 14 of Claiming the Tower
“A very long day, then.” Bess tilted her head, considering the woman in front of her. “As well as a complicated day. You’re dressed well. Deliberately. Also subtly.”
“See, no one else appreciates the efforts I go to,” Hereswith said. “Meeting with half a dozen senior staff in our department and three members of the Council. So, of course, everything had to be just right, and I was the one sorting the arrangements. Which Council Member Ventry did compliment, after. But now she’s going to tell my seniors that, which means I’ll be the one doing it next time, too. Or something more complex.”
Bess considered that. “Someone needs to see to such things, and better someone competent, obviously. But you doing it is not optimal, er, why, exactly?” As soon as she’d asked, she turned her attention to pouring the tea. The charms on the pot made that part easy, at least, it was still perfectly brewed and just the right temperature.
Hereswith snorted. Bess handed her the cup, carefully, and Hereswith inhaled the scent of it, letting out a long breath. “The protocol, the setting, of a meeting like this is part of what we do. Well, what Marcus and I do, in London. A lot of that is making a space where diplomats from some other embassy can feel a little more relaxed, talk more freely. Not actually, freely, of course, we’re not naïve. But if people have a more personal relationship than the purely professional, especially built over food and drink, that can go a long way in the diplomatic discussions.”
Bess nodded slowly. “It establishes a shared language.” She was feeling her way through this. “There are reasons sitting down and breaking bread together is so important, aren’t they? Or all the classical customs about guests and hosts. Xenia.”
“Exactly. You are clever. Most people don’t spot that for ages unless they’ve had it pointed out. Now, most women, our generation and older, we’ve learned some of it. From our mothers or whatever gatherings we’ve been asked to host. The men don’t have to, not the same way. So in our department, it is often one of the women asked to see to the details. Not just the domestic ones, or we’d complain more loudly, I’m sure. I also needed to see to maps, and the suitable location.”
“And suitable means what, here? I mean, you’re not deciding between particular ballrooms. I’ve only seen a few of the Ministry spaces ever, actually. Rather more at the banks, now I think about it.”
“The banks are doing something similar. How do they lay out a space that is both magically secure and that feels and seems secure to their clients?” Hereswith said, letting out another sigh as she sipped more of her tea. “Eat, go on. I’m working around to it.”
Bess considered, and then made a point of cutting one scone in half, applying jam and then clotted cream to it, then the other, that one with the cream first. She handed the first one over on one of the tiny plates, holding it there, as Hereswith laughed. “Doing the thing in the way that puts someone at ease.” Bess said, when her friend had fallen quiet again.
“Yes. You can learn this sort of thing, from lists and guides and all that. But being able to do it by intuition, the right offer in the moment, that’s a gift that can’t be entirely trained. I am, if I say so myself, quite good at that part.”
“But that is not what you want to be known for.” Bess considered that problem.
“If I wanted to be known for my hostessing, I would have accepted Werring Howard’s proposal. I’d be a chief pillar of the Albion Inheritance, and the hostess most in demand of our generation.” Hereswith wrinkled her nose. “But that would have meant marrying Werring Howard.”
“You have already said you did not find marriage appealing.” Bess leaned back, taking a bite of her own scone and noting approvingly that Hereswith was mirroring her. She’d sometimes had to use that trick at her previous position, with an elderly lady who forgot to eat. She was so caught up inside her thoughts. Bess didn’t think Hereswith needed a keeper, exactly. But she had been wondering why Hereswith’s life was as solitary as it seemed to be. A curious sort of solitude, given the entertaining inherent in her work, but there seemed to be a space around her, especially in other parts of her life.
Bess had paid attention, since they’d started having tea, to the mentions in the papers. There were a few, but mostly the sort of ordinary events she’d expect of any woman of independent means. “I’d say was that Werring or the idea in general, but then I know Werring.”
He’d been in Owl House, between the two of them at Schola. She’d mostly known him at school as a rather spotty sort who spent all his time in the library. There was no shame in that. He’d grown out of the spots, but that wasn’t all that made a good marriage. Or at least, so Bess understood. It was not as if she’d had prospects that direction worth mentioning.
Hereswith snorted, but not until she’d finished half the scone, a few crumbs dusting it. “The raspberry jam with the lemon in the scone is delightful. I must remember to ask for that again. Or delight in it for the summer, at least.” She then considered before answering the question. “Both. He’d very much have liked my money. But there’s the problem of that. He’d have wanted to control it. Then, he’d have refused to live at home. He’d have wanted Trellech. I didn’t particularly want to leave Papa alone, not day in and day out. I love our estate.” She glanced up, meeting Bess’s eyes. “Not a landed estate, of course, but that doesn’t mean I love it less.”
“You’re not obliged to love it, and that’s a different love, isn’t it? Some people marry for obligation, and some of those turn out well enough. But it’s a different sort of love than running off with someone and defying every parent in the picture. Or a slower love, coming to turn to someone, over time.” Bess put down her plate a bit sharply. As she was coming to turn to Hereswith, for warmth and comfort and joy that she had no right to expect or lean on. Even as friends.
“I suppose so.” Hereswith let out a sigh. “I wish I could show you sometime. But there’s not enough time on a Tuesday. The portals sometimes have a wait, both directions. And I’m sure if we tried, your Madam Judson would suddenly demand your presence with no warning. But I’d love to show you the orchards and the gardens. The roses are all coming out beautifully this year.”
“And the house?” Bess was curious about it.
“Rather ridiculously large for the two of us and the staff. Papa spends most of his time in the library or his bedroom, these days. The library’s on the first floor, with a ballroom and sitting room, drawing room, and a dining room. All up in sheets and protective charms, except the dining room, right now. Well, we set up the sitting room properly when my brothers and their families visit for Christmas and such.”
“The ground floor?” Bess was trying to get a sense of the space.
“Mostly the staff rooms, it’s cut back into the back of the terrace. You know the sort of thing, half-height windows along the top of the walls. Papa’s bedroom is on the second floor, above the library, though we’ve talked about whether it would make sense to move him to the small bedroom next to the library. Inertia, however, is a powerful force.”
“And you?”
“Since my brothers moved out, I’ve been in the rooms at the front on the second floor. Bedroom, sitting room of my own, bathing room. Papa did them up nicely for me, all the latest magical conveniences at the time. Excellent hot water. Not always a reliable thing in a house that age.”
Talking about it made Hereswith smile, and Bess liked that a great deal. Hereswith went on, and she let her enthusiasm show. “I’ve a library in what used to be the music room. As well as the books downstairs, but I hate to bother Papa if he’s concentrating.” She shrugged. “More bedrooms on the third floor, including the nursery, and there are two cottages on the estate that are often empty. We sometimes use those for my brothers too.” She wrinkled her nose. “They have opinions.”
“Having met you, and heard a little bit about your father, I gather opinions do run in your family.” Bess offered it a little tentatively, but she was rewarded with a broader smile.
“Oh, yes. But mine, you see, are correct, and theirs are misguided. No, honestly, they are!” Hereswith was laughing a little as she reached for one of the small sandwiches. “Eat a sandwich. And then we can reasonably declare it time for chocolate.”
“Without having been too precipitous,” Bess returned. “You’ve made your home your own. Your brothers don’t want to be there?”
“Oh, they’d like to show off the house. But it’s not terribly convenient for either of them. One is in London. He’s in business, a mix of magical and non-magical goods. That’s Wulfred. He goes by Wilfred, in non-magical circles. It takes less explaining. Oswig is based in Trellech. Wulfred speculates more than I think entirely wise, but I don’t argue with him about it. I won’t win, and I won’t waste my time.”
Bess considered her next question. “Do you spend time with your brothers elsewhere? I was wondering—” She swallowed. “I was wondering, you must have other friends and places you spend time.”
